


The Princess and The Pyromancer

by Gandalfgirl579



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Divination, Dragons, F/F, Fire Magic, Magic, Pyromancy, Yuri, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfgirl579/pseuds/Gandalfgirl579
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The flames swayed and danced like so much golden wheat in a summer storm, and Ymir watched, enraptured. There was a girl in the flames, smiling with dazzling radiance, bright as the sun. On her shoulder was a dragon, and Ymir allowed herself a little grin. The pyromancy demonstrations were a pain in the neck, yes, but maybe this dragon-girl would make the pain worth her while</p><p>Fantasy/medieval AU with a side of dragons and castles and fire magic. Yumikuri, pyromancer Ymir x princess Historia. A short and sweet little oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Princess and The Pyromancer

Her leathery wings beat at the sky, slicing the air around her to windswept ribbons.

Her body burned, consumed by the fire racing through her blood, blazing just beneath her scaled skin.

Another beat of her mighty wings, and she plunged into the molten heart of the sun, and she was not burned.

She was the fire itself.

Ymir smiled: To be a dragon was every pyromancer's dream.

The sun was shining through her window now, bright and insistent and so, so warm. Groaning, she slid from her bed, memorizing the dream before wakefulness snatched it away.

She'd need happy memories today. The king had summoned her to the court to share her talents with a group of foreign dignitaries, and there were few things more boring than that.

Their kingdom was one of the few that still trained pyromancers, and simple parlor tricks were enough to be considered impressive by those who had never seen fire as it could truly be.

And so few had seen the true potential of fire. 

The divination that had brought pyromancy into the spotlight all those centuries ago had just been the tip of the iceberg. The flames could be harnessed and forced into myriad shapes, could be molded into art and into soldiers and into weaponry. Combat use of the flames was forbidden now, though. It was too dangerous, they said. 

Since the Great Burning, the use of fire magic had been reduced to the silly tricks and the divination of old.

It was a shame, really.

But that was what the demonstrations were for. If enough people of high enough rank saw the fire for what it could be, there was a chance that the art could bask in that lost spotlight once again. 

That didn't make it any less troublesome, though.

Ymir tried to push her dread aside as she ate her breakfast, sharing the bowl of porridge with the stray cat that seemed to think it lived here. She didn't mind it, really. Since it had moved in, she hadn't seen a single rat. Giving the cat a soft scratch between its ragged ears, she stood.

The palace was too fancy a place for her, and she rummaged through her wardrobe in search of the rare items that weren't singed at the sleeves or reeking of smoke.

Giving a bit of a smirk, she slid into a pair of black leggings, pulling a crimson tunic over it. The king disapproved of the way she dressed. Ladies wear dresses, her would protest when she appeared in trousers, and she would simply smirk and reply, I'm no lady. 

Cinching a belt about her waist, Ymir grabbed her boots, working them over her feet. There was a little pocket in the right one, near the hem, and from it she drew a handful of salt, tossing it into the flames burning in the bedroom hearth, watching quietly as they swayed and danced like so much golden wheat in a summer storm.

There was a girl in the flames, smiling with dazzling radiance, bright as the sun. On her shoulder was a dragon, and Ymir allowed herself a little grin.

Maybe this would be an interesting day after all.

* * *

"Must you dress like that?"

Ymir rolled her eyes, what little patience she had dangling by a thread. The demonstration had been a success, yes, but her pride was stung. Showing off such paltry little tricks as if they were true magic always put her in a foul mood. 

"A lady should--"

And she snarled at the king, teeth bared, growling out, "I always dress like this. You wearing a sparkly hat doesn't make your opinion matter to me, y'know."

"It's a crown--"

"Whatever."

"And it gives me the right to tell you how to present yourself in my court."

"WHATEVER."

The king sighed at that. "Though you did do well with the performance," he admitted. "It seems pyromancy might make a comeback."

"Doubt that." It was Ymir's turn to sigh, and she sat, sprawling out on the carved marble steps that led up to the throne, irreverent as ever. "It's a dangerous art."

"If someone as reckless as you can handle it--"

"You shouldn't reprimand her."

That voice was new, high and soft, and Ymir turned toward it immediately. 

"Her performance was brilliant. The best she's ever given, I'd say."

"Historia." The king's voice was stern. "You have a lesson today. You should be--"

"I skipped it."

"A princess should--"

Oh. It didn't come as a surprise, really. This girl was too beautiful to be anything else. Her hair was pure sunshine, her eyes a clear sky, her skin the flawless what of daisy petals, her gown the color of newly-turned leaves. She was a perfect summer afternoon given human form.

"Your name is Ymir, isn't it?" she was asking. 

"Yeah." It was hard to speak to her, Ymir had to admit. She seemed almost too perfect to be real. "And you are...?" She already knew, of course. Everyone knew.

Still, the princess humored her. "Historia of House Reiss," she said, giving a graceful curtsy, "daughter of the king, princess of the realm, heir to the throne of Stohess." Her eyes roved for a minute, wide and curious and oddly welcoming. "What house do you belong to?"

"I don't have a house."

The princess' face seemed to fall at that, well-groomed brows drawing together in concern, and she asked, "You've no family?"

"Never have."

"Oh, you poor thing!" It sounded strangely genuine, and Historia swept forward, taking Ymir's hands in hers, meeting liquid-gold eyes with sapphire blue. "If there's ever anything I can do for you, you just let me know, all right?"

"You could come back to my place," was all Ymir could think to say, her words sheepish, though she gave a smirk at Historia's sudden flush. "It gets lonely living by myself."

"Oh!" The princess' eyes were wide, her face bright red. "Well, I..." She trailed off, her sky-colored gaze locking with her father's. There was disapproval written all over his face, and she turned a dazzling smile on Ymir. "Sure!"

"Wonderful." Ymir's smile was a wolfish thing, wild, and Historia took her arm.

"At least take a guard with you," the king said, suddenly looking rather worried. "For the princess to--"

"Ymir serves the crown," was Historia's reply, surprisingly stern. "I'll be safe with her."

"A princess needs to--"

"Grow into her role as a leader, and to do so, she needs a little freedom, wouldn't you say?"

He couldn't say, or he wouldn't. All the king could do was cast them a dirty look as they strode out of the throne room together, arm-in-arm, the princess and the pyromancer. 

* * * 

"You really live here?"

"Yep."

"It's lovely!"

The cottage was a nice place, Ymir had to admit. There were so few things in the world she could truly call hers, and she treasured them. Her home was no exception. It was small, but it was open, and there was sun pouring over the thatched roof and into the little garden, washing over patches vervain and tangles of briar and laurel bushes, lapping at the fire pit in thick, golden waves. The cat was currently on the edge of the pit, lounging in the sun, and Ymir trailed her fingers along its spine as she passed, though it fled Historia's touch, growling quietly in its throat.

"Weird," was all Ymir could say to it.

"It's all right." Historia didn't seem bother by it. "Most animals don't like me much..."

"Why not?"

"Mm." She was hiding something, and while Ymir would normally be suspicious, she was merely intrigued. "We should stay out here," the princess said, glancing up at the pyromancer with sky-colored eyes. Their arms were still entangled. "It's beautiful here."

"You don't have gardens in the castle?" 

"Just the one," Historia said, shrugging her shoulders, shifting the golden fabric that composed the cloak she wore. And she sat, running her fingers through a patch of pale violet vervain flowers, her eyes beckoning the other to join her. "But they only grow food plants there, and a few healing herbs." She glanced around again. "It's nothing like this."

"Shame." And, at last, Ymir complied, joining Historia on the ground, giving a pleasant little shiver when the princess leaned on her shoulder. "This isn't that much different, though. Briar branches and laurel leaves and vervain-- Those flowers there --are used in pyromancy."

"You burn them?"

Again: "Yep."

"And you can see the future when you burn them?" It seemed strange for a princess to be interested in such a subject.

"Sometimes." Cautiously, Ymir draped one arm around Historia's shoulder, and the blonde snuggled closer. "I saw you in the flames this morning."

It was a bit disappointing when Historia pulled away, looking rather startled, though not altogether displeased. "You did?"

"Yeah, but..." Ymir chewed on the inside of her cheek for a minute, debating. "But there was a dragon with you. A tiny one. It was sitting on your shoulder."

"You saw Armin, too?" Now she sounded flat-out amazed.

"'Armin?'" it came out on a scoff. "What kinda name is that for a dragon?"

"It's as good a name as any!" Historia laughed, undoing the sapphire-dotted broach at her throat and letting her cloak pool around her elbows. Hidden in the hood, tucked against her back, was a small golden creature. 

"That's a dragon?" 

"That's a dragon!" Turning a bit and lowering the cape to the ground, the princess scooped the dragon into her arms, and it purred, its horned head coming to rest against her forearm, tail curled about her wrist. Its scales were golden, catching the sunlight and very nearly glittering. 

But that wasn't what Ymir's attention.

"He's tiny," was all she could think to say. She'd seen dragons in books and in paintings and in the flames, but never in real life. 

"He's a baby," was the princess' retort. "Only a few months old. When he's older, he'll be bigger. One day, I'll even be able to ride him..."

"Can I pet him?" It was odd to hear Ymir sounding so hesitant.

"I see no reason why not."

Still uncertain, Ymir reached one hand out, carefully stroking one of the dragon's horns, and it glanced up at her, its eyes the same brilliant blue as its owner's. For an instant, she froze. Those eyes soon slid shut again, though, and the little beast gave off a soft purr.

"I think he likes you." Historia's voice was a delicate thing, a whisper nearly lost in the wind. She sounded… Rapt, almost. 

"Makes sense," Ymir agreed, scratching at the dragon's chin, much to its delight. "Back when they were common-- Us and them both --pyromancers kept dragons as familiars."

"Familiars?" the princess asked, though she didn't seem to be paying attention. Her gaze was set upon the other's face, watching and waiting. 

"Helpers," Ymir said, shrugging her shoulders. "They would start the fires for us. A flame from the heart of a dragon is a purer thing than a flame started at the hands of a human." Her smile was glowing now, not her usual ravenous smirk, but a soft, genuine thing. "They say the best pyromancers could actually transform into dragons, given time and practice and patience."

"Really?" Still, Historia sounded entranced. 

"Really. It's every pyromancer's dream, to become a dragon." The little golden beast gave a yawn then, and Ymir watched as it curled back into its owners arms, still purring low in its throat. "There aren't many dragons left in the world, are there?"

Blue met gold again, sapphire on sunshine: "There's you."

And Ymir laughed, "I'm no dragon."

"You are, though." Historia's smile was nothing short of dazzling. "At the show, you breathed fire."

"Not exactly." It was an amusing notion nonetheless.

"You breathe fire, and you kidnap princesses." There was no deceit in Historia's voice, and when she leaned in to press her lips to Ymir's, the pyromancer drew her closer. 

"I am pretty intent on keeping the treasure for myself…" 

Ymir's purr of a voice sent shivers down Historia's spine, and she pressed her lips to the brunette's again. When they parted, her voice was a breathy thing. "You must be a dragon."

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now. It started as one line: She breathes fire and kidnaps princesses-- Though she is human, she is a dragon. And the fic just sorta grew from there into this fairytale AU oneshot
> 
> Yumikuri is one of my favorite SnK ships, actually, and Wrath sorta saddles our precious girls with a bad rap... So I decided to take that one line and turn it into the kinda sweetness they deserve. This is the only yumikuri piece I've written that isn't straight-up porn, now that I think about it... Of course, there will probably be more of that sometime soon. Any time I'm lacking ideas, I just write porn, and the ideas come
> 
> Also, Historia's dragon is called Armin. I don't really know why, save the fact that he's golden and has the same blue eyes as his owner… It just felt right, I guess
> 
> Anyway, what do you guys think? It's been so long since I've written something soft, and I can't help but feel like I'm a little rusty…
> 
> Excited for more? Have constructive criticism or even just silly comments to add? Let me know! And as always, I must mention that I go by Strangler-figg on Tumblr, and I'm totally open to taking questions and comments there! :)


End file.
